


Oblivion

by epsiloneridani



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Fall of Reach, Family Feels, Gen, I haven't decided on what Carolina was yet though, RVB in Haloverse, Wash is a Helljumper, implied PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 15:10:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15665739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epsiloneridani/pseuds/epsiloneridani
Summary: Freelancer’s first purpose was humanity’s survival. Agents or not, they’re still soldiers. On the front or not, they’re still at war.Wash and Carolina. Bad news travels fast.





	Oblivion

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Canon-typical language and violence, implied PTSD

“You heard.”

She’s quiet beside him, arms folded across her chest. They’re not in armor for once, just civvies that neither of them has ever been totally comfortable with since they got here. Wash shifts, tugs at the collar. It’s thin and vulnerable and vulnerable is not what he needs right now.

“I heard,” Carolina offers at last, toying with the end of her braid.

His heart turns in his chest, his hands shake; he shoves them in his pockets and rocks back and forth on his heels. “It’s just one planet,” he says, but it feels hollow. Carolina scoffs.

“Sure,” she agrees, monotone. “Right.”

Wash grimaces and stares beyond her. Even with the stars, space feels like oblivion. Even with the stars, it’s still so dark. If he stares long enough, they glow, burning embers in the ebon night.

If he stares long enough, there’s fire in the sky and plasma driving the earth to glass and he’s running for his life while the world roils and writhes beneath his boots. If he stares long enough, he’s huddled inside a still-cooling crater and his visor’s cracked and there’s blood on his hands, blood all around. If he stares long enough, if he closes his eyes, he can still hear the Banshees, can still hear the screams. He’s alone and then he’s on top of a cliff, hitting his jetpack and leaping and seizing and praying and clinging for dear life.

He’s always been good with knives. It doesn’t take much to drive a blade into a Banshee’s pilot: it just makes it harder to drive – and a lot more cramped. They called it a miracle, that he made it off, that he survived, but he goes feet first into hell all the time, so he rolled his eyes and shrugged  _luck is blind._

Maybe this time, luck isn’t enough.

“Carolina?”

She glances at him out of the corner of her eye. “Yeah?” she asks, and by the way her voice softens he knows his must have been trembling. She hasn’t talked to him like that since they were kids.

Wash sucks in an unsteady breath.

“Are we losing?”

Carolina stares at him for a beat. She doesn’t so much as blink, she doesn’t say a word. Her hand lands on his shoulder and draws him close. Her hugs have always been strong, a steadfast solace for his young, heaving heart – but today, today she shudders.

“Are we losing?” he asks again, a hoarse whisper against her hair. Her breath is shaky; she drives her fingers into his shoulderblades and keeps him close, keeps him  _here_. They stand motionless for an eternity before she tugs away, holding his shoulders and his gaze – a breath, a stumbling heartbeat. Her eyes shine, a sheen of searing agony. His chest turns. His chest aches.

“‘Lina?”

She shakes her head and pulls him to her again, tighter than before. She doesn’t say anything; she doesn’t need to. Somewhere beyond them, someone’s turned on the news. Somewhere beyond them, he hears the words that have been pulsing in his head since he learned.

_Reach has fallen._

_—–_


End file.
